


The Fraternity of Morons

by hearts_blood



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Sleep Deprivation, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/hearts_blood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan readies for a quiet night in... Well, she tries to, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fraternity of Morons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kungfuwaynewho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kungfuwaynewho/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "lights out" [Susan Ivanova].

Commander Susan Ivanova dug the heels of her hands into her eyeballs. "Lieutenant Corwin," she said as she stalked out of C&C, "you're in charge of this circus now."

"Get some rest," she heard him call sympathetically as she fled.

_Damn John,_ Susan thought, rubbing her forehead while she waited for the transport tube. Damn John and damn Delenn and damn the whole stupid outdated concept of 'dating' that had compelled John to beg her to switch duty shifts with him so that he could take Delenn out to dinner that night. "I owe you one," he said when she agreed, grinning in that happy farmer boy way he had.

"A big one," Susan corrected, lightly punching his arm.

John gave her a big, brotherly kiss on the cheek, squeezed her shoulders, and went to go make the reservations at Fresh Air.

Now it was one in the morning, and John Sheridan was probably sleeping off the best lay of his life, and Susan didn't know who she was more jealous of: John for getting to have sex with Delenn, or Delenn for getting to have sex _at all._

"Come on, Susan, don't be jealous. Just because you haven't had a date since, oh, the Pleistocene. Or had sex since Earth was populated by single-celled organisms."

She thought for a few seconds that she might head over to the casino to unwind, then remembered that it was after one in the morning and past closing time. Home to her quarters it was, then, and to a few soothing shots of... no, no vodka tonight. Tea. Susan was in a tea mood. A nice hot cup of tea (enlivened with a little vodka, maybe).

Susan let the door of her quarters fall shut behind her, opened her collar, and let out a sigh of soul-deep relief.

Then her link beeped at her. 

Years of ingrained obedience to little beeping noises made her answer the link before she could tell the device to go fuck itself. "Ivanova, go."

"Sorry to bother you, Commander, but the L'kani ship is requesting permission to depart ahead of schedule and we need your authorization to release the vessel."

"What the hell's so important that it couldn't wait til morning?"

"Apparently one of the L'kani captain's husbands just went into labor on their homeworld."

"One of their—? Fine, whatever. Authorization granted. Goodnight!" Susan went tiredly into her bedroom, tossed her uniform jacket on the bed, and loosened her long hair from its tight braid. This time, she swore she felt the tingle in the back of her hand seconds before her link went off. "Ivanova."

"Garibaldi here. Just wanted to give you a heads-up: I got a tip about weapons smugglers arriving tomorrow with a shipment. Gonna need a team in flak to meet them."

Susan bit back a scream of frustration. "Right. Make the arrangements. I'll sign the authorization first thing in the morning. What ship is it?"

"Not sure yet. I still need to go over tomorrow's docking schedule."

"Right, yes. Fine. Good."

"Meet you for breakfast?"

"Garibaldi, if you don't shut up and let me get to bed, I swear to God, I will _eat_ you for breakfast."

"Whoa. All right, then." She could almost see his shit-eating no-mercy grin. "Nighty-night."

Susan put together a complicated curse in Russian and Hebrew and let it loose. It turned the air in her quarters six different shades of blue and made her feel mildly better. 

The Drazi ambassador called on BabCom while her tea was steeping. "Arrangements for formal Drazi wedding are most acceptable, Commander," he simpered. "I thank you."

"You're welcome. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"You will attend festivities, of course."

It was the first Susan had heard of it. "If my duties permit, Ambassador, I'd be honored to attend. But for the moment—"

"Perhaps you will consider coming as my guest?" He shot what he no doubt thought was a charming smile at the viewscreen. "There are many intricacies to appropriate conduct for wedding guests. You will need instruction."

_Why is it always the creepy aliens who decide to hit on me?_ Susan wondered. She put on her best diplomatic air. "Thank you for the compliment, Ambassador, but I'm afraid that would constitute a conflict of interest on my part, so regretfully, I have to decline. Good night. End," she added quickly, cutting his reply short. The screen went dark.

She let out a huff. "I don't know how far you think you'd get, anyway," she muttered, removing the teabag from her cup and adding a splash of vodka, "seeing as how you people have cloacae." She tasted her tea and grimaced at the bitter taste of over-steeped tannin. "Blech." She poured the tea down the drain, considered the empty teacup for a second or two, then filled it to the brim with vodka and tossed the liquor back in one professional gulp. Then she headed for the shower, discarding her clothes (and her link) as she went.

She half-hoped that if she stood under the pounding hot water long enough, she might fall asleep and drown. So naturally, just as Susan was beginning to lose the tension knot of doom between her spine and right shoulder blade, her door chimed. "God _damn_ it," she growled, slipping on the wet tiles as she scrabbled for a towel and her bathrobe. "Doesn't anyone on this station _sleep_ anymore? Enter!"

A disheveled and frantic Vir Cotto lurched into her living room. "Commander Ivanova," he gasped, gesticulating with his plump hands, "there is an _emergency_ in Ambassador Mollari's quarters, and maintenance—oh." He suddenly noticed Susan's own state of dishabille, the wet bathrobe that she was clutching against her chest, and the towel she had quickly twisted up around her hair. Vir averted his eyes in embarrassment, looked back, blushed, and then backed away.

"Vir. Listen to me very, _very_ carefully: Unless Londo's quarters have suffered a massive hull breach, and the tiny piece of bulkhead he's hanging onto is the only thing keeping him from being sucked into the vacuum of space, then I. Don't. Care. I do not give a single damn. I am off-duty. Now." The wet and angry woman advanced menacingly on the quivering aide. "Is there anything else you'd like to say before departing from my quarters in an uncomfortable hurry, or do I have to string you up by your own genitalia?"

"No," Vir squeaked, clapping his hands against his stomach. "No, C-commander, that's q-quite—I'll call maintenance again and—and I, I think I'll be going now." He backed towards the door, his eyes wide and scared and fixed on Susan. "Going now... bye."

"Bye bye," said Susan, smiling like a shark.

The door swallowed Vir up.

Susan looked at the ceiling. "What? What is it? Whatever I said or did, I am _sorry_."

She went back into the bathroom and finished drying off properly, and bypassed the hair dryer in favor of pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Susan brushed her teeth and stumbled back towards her bedroom. 

The door chimed. 

"Fuck!" Susan buried her face in her hands and fought back an absurd urge to sob from sheer impotent fury. "Okay. If I kill whoever it is, I can plead temporary insanity. I'll be court-martialed and thrown in prison, but at least there's a mandatory lights-out in jail... Argh, God, get it together, Susan. Come in!"

Ambassador Delenn inched warily through the door. "I didn't think I would be disturbing you," she said, by way of apology. "Vir said you were still awake."

"I'm surprised he could still talk after he left here," Susan grumbled.

"He was somewhat... incoherent," Delenn conceded. "I will not keep you, Susan. I only want to say thank you. John told me of the favor you did for him. It is most appreciated."

"Oh. Well... that's okay. Did you two have a nice time?"

Delenn's expression suddenly looked faraway. "Yes," she said simply, with a little inward smile.

No sex, Susan concluded, but a lot of making out. Possible groping. Her hair and clothes were way too neat for anything else. "Great. Look, I'm glad you guys had fun, but if I don't get some sleep—"

"Of course." Delenn bowed politely. "What is the Human phrase... sweet dreams?"

"Thank you, Delenn. Good night." She held herself straight until the door closed, and then slumped. "Bed. Now."

She closed the sliding doors of her bedroom, dropped her robe to the floor, and crawled gratefully into bed. "Lights." Her quarters dimmed. Susan let out a long, sweet sigh, and closed her eyes. 

Somewhere near the bathroom, in the pocket of her abandoned pants, her link beeped.

The only thing in the universe that could have stopped Susan, and did stop her from finding her link and smashing into dust with the first heavy object she could lay hands on, was the realization that if she destroyed the device as it so richly deserved, she would have to pay to replace it.


End file.
